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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269849">it's better to kiss than fight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spymursclause/pseuds/spymursclause'>spymursclause</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boundaries, Claiming, Collars, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possessive Behavior, anyways nezha is kind of an asshole, background athena/medusa/satyr but its really minor, i guess?, so i wont tag it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:27:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269849</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spymursclause/pseuds/spymursclause</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nezha harrumphs, reaches out to trace the bandages on Baal’s throat. “Right.” At least it doesn’t damage Baal’s ability to speak. “Where’s your bell?” </p>
<p>Baal goes silent at that.</p>
<p>Nezha frowns. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d looked for lost things — bodies could be much harder to differentiate when they were all mixed together in pieces. </p>
<p>“Baal,” he prompts again.</p>
<p>“Drawer.” Baal’s tone becomes clipped and he slides down the headboard. “It’s broken.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Baal/Nezha (Granblue Fantasy)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's better to kiss than fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/flxmelxnce/gifts">flxmelxnce</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATSU, HAVE SOME OF YOUR GREMLIN NEZHA (i am so so sorry for being so late with this)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What happened?” </p>
<p>“You didn’t think to ask that before you scorched a new hole into the deck?” The scolding is tame, Baal’s face tired and drawn with pain instead of irritation Nezha usually sees after he’s caused damage to the Grandcypher. “You even left Medusa <em> behind </em> after she flew all the way to inform you of what had happened.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Nezha says, pulling up a stool while resting Nalavakura on the wall beside Baal’s bed now he’s sure Baal’s in no immediate danger. “She didn’t exactly tell me what happened.”</p>
<p>“You probably didn’t even hear her after the first two words.”</p>
<p><em> Baal’s hurt. </em> Words that send blind hot rage racing through Nezha — along with the unfamiliar emotions of anxiety and fear, emotions Nezha decidedly doesn’t like when they pertain to him. Nezha shakes his head.</p>
<p>“Maybe.” </p>
<p>Nezha’s hands twitch, he wants to pull Baal’s blankets away and check on his injuries — see how bad they are and soothe him. But Baal’s touchy even at the best of times and Nezha’s sure his body language is speaking volumes of how he doesn’t want to be touched anyways. </p>
<p>It’s too bad the captains have already dispatched of the enemies who managed to do this — Nezha itches to raise them from the dead and give them a second reckoning. </p>
<p>“...don’t do that next time.” Nezha jerks back to the present, missing the first half of Baal’s sentence.</p>
<p>“Sorry?”</p>
<p>“I said,” Baal reaches for Nezha’s hand and the gauntlet drops to the floor with a clang, “I appreciate you…” He pauses, as if trying to find the right word to say and suddenly Nezha wishes he hadn’t missed the first thing Baal had said. “... coming so quickly but you left Medusa in a dangerous place so don’t do that next time.” </p>
<p>Nezha squeezes Baal’s hand.</p>
<p>“No promises.”</p>
<p>“<em> Nezha </em>.”</p>
<p>His eyes drift over Baal, examining what he can see of his body. Djeeta had been kind enough to brave his rippling flames to tell him nothing was life threatening, just serious enough to keep Baal bedridden for a week at most. </p>
<p>Baal’s right hand is bandaged and it reeks of medicine — Shao had left just as Nezha was storming down the hallway, not even bothering to hide his killing intent but the healer had simply told Nezha to be careful and to avoid any <em> strenuous </em>activity. Truly a brave mortal. </p>
<p>“Stop staring.” Baal touches the back of his neck nervously, squirming even though Nezha isn’t doing anything more than holding hands. “I’ll be <em> fine </em>.”</p>
<p>Nezha harrumphs, reaches out to trace the bandages on Baal’s throat. “Right.” At least it doesn’t damage Baal’s ability to speak. “Where’s your bell?” </p>
<p>Baal goes silent at that.</p>
<p>Nezha frowns. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d looked for lost things — bodies could be <em> much </em>harder to differentiate when they were all mixed together in pieces. </p>
<p>“Baal,” he prompts again.</p>
<p>“Drawer.” Baal’s tone becomes clipped and he slides down the headboard. “It’s broken.”</p>
<p><em> Oh </em>.</p>
<p>Baal’s never divulged anyone in what the bell means to him, why he keeps wearing it and why he doesn’t let people take it away from him. Baal isn’t a mystery but he still has his secrets that even Nezha hasn’t figured out yet. </p>
<p>“May I?” </p>
<p>A head tilt of hesitant assent comes after Baal seems to think about it for a good minute or two, and Nezha opens the drawer and picks up the familiar bell. The collar has been snapped and the bell itself is dented in several places. Nezha shakes it and the pleasant chime of the bell doesn’t sound. </p>
<p>Baal sighs and then reaches for the bell after letting go of Nezha’s hand, scowling when Nezha holds it out of reach.</p>
<p>“Nezha.”</p>
<p>“This collar… And bell… Astral made?” </p>
<p>Nezha’s fingers trace the inside of the collar, a number and then a name although faded from wear, still somewhat decipherable against skin. </p>
<p>“Have you been wearing the collar your Astral gave you all these years?” Nezha doesn’t even realize how angry he sounds until Baal’s anger surges to meet his, resonance souring. </p>
<p>Baal <em> bristles </em>. </p>
<p>“Give it to me.” There’s a rare tick of anger in Baal’s voice, eyes steely and flashing with something decidedly not good. “<em> Now </em>.”</p>
<p>Nezha tosses the collar at him, keeping the bell in his hand. </p>
<p>“I can fix it,” he explains tightly when Baal’s lips draw back into a snarl. Baal is tensing, like he’s getting ready to lunge at Nezha despite his injuries and Nezha can’t help but feel excited since he’s never seen Baal fight when injured; he suspects it’d be like fighting a cornered cat. </p>
<p>Unpredictable. The kind of fight Nezha likes.</p>
<p>The door bangs open and Djeeta and Gran are standing there, worriedly peering into the room. Nezha scoffs.</p>
<p>“Everything’s fine.” Everything is not fine by the way the captains grip their weapons.</p>
<p>“Baal’s distressed.”</p>
<p>“And angry.”</p>
<p>“You’re both angry.” </p>
<p>“How did you make Baal angry?” </p>
<p>Djeeta speaks first and then Gran, each one firing off a sentence as soon as the other finishes. </p>
<p>“It’s fine.” Baal deflates a little, dodging Gran’s question, resonance evening out again. Nezha’s not sure whether to be offended or impressed when they listen to Baal but not him, Djeeta looking doubtful but Gran grabs her by the arm and yanks the door shut again. </p>
<p>Nezha stands up, eyeing the collar on Baal’s hands and oh how he wants to burn it to crisp so badly. </p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“That’s none of your business.” </p>
<p>“Baal.”</p>
<p>“I said it’s none of your business.” Baal’s tone has an edge to it, warning Nezha to <em> leave it alone </em> but Nezha does not <em> leave things alone </em>.</p>
<p>“You’re <em> mine </em>.” Nezha’s usual possessiveness skyrockets, mixing in with his anger but Baal doesn’t shrink away like he usually does. He hisses instead, the air in the room becoming more charged by the second and even Hannibal is puffed up despite preferring Nezha most of the time.</p>
<p>“I keep telling you I’m not yours. I was done being someone’s <em> thing— </em>”</p>
<p>“But you still wear the collar with your number and their name on it.” </p>
<p>“Are you going to give me a collar with <em> your </em> name on it?” </p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Nezha stalks forward, gripping Baal’s chin to tip up his head so he can lock gazes with Baal. “If I do, are you going to wear it obediently like you did for your Astral?” </p>
<p>Uncertainty flashes through Baal, his anger wavering. Nezha takes the opening and <em> digs </em>.</p>
<p>“Do you feel unsafe if there’s no claim on you?” he cooes, bending down to whisper into Baal’s ear so whoever is standing outside won’t hear. “You should’ve just said so.” </p>
<p>Baal slaps him. Or at least tries to. Nezha catches the hand without much effort, makes note it's not the injured one and tightens his grip until Baal squirms, trying to yank his arm back. Instead of freezing like he’d used to, Baal twists his body, like the goddamn cat he is and nails Nezha in the stomach with a kick. </p>
<p>Nezha rears back, ready to really get serious <em> — </em> he is <em> itching </em> for a good fight from Baal of all people and rarely does Baal react to his provocation like that.</p>
<p>“BAALLY!!!” The door slams open again and Nezha drops Baal’s hand as Satyr barrels in, Baal falling back onto the bed with a soft squeak. Medusa follows closely behind, blowing hair out of her face. </p>
<p>Satyr’s smile doesn’t drop off her face but it’s impossible to not sense the tension in the air and Nezha doesn’t miss how she moves in between him and Baal. Medusa is less subtle, ignoring Nezha with a scowl while fussing over Baal, tucking him back in and slowly, Baal’s resonance peters out of its distressed state.</p>
<p>“Satyr,” Nezha finally says, when he can no longer stand four primals crammed into one cabin room, two of them ready to fight, two of them distressed but not willing to voice it, “come with me.” </p>
<p>“But I wanna look after Baally.” Satyr is still carefully keeping her place between the two of them while Medusa’s tail lashes from side to side nervously. Nezha knows he can take on Medusa without much trouble but Satyr is another story.</p>
<p>“Medussy can do that.” </p>
<p>“I don’t need to be looked after,” Baal protests sullenly. “I just need to rest.” </p>
<p>Djeeta clears her throat pointedly and Nezha withdraws for now, not sure any fight at the moment would turn out well in any aspect. Satyr follows him out, Medusa grabbing the stool and sitting down next to Baal. </p>
<p>Nezha strains to hear their conversation but their voices are too low and Gran shuts the door, completely cutting off any sound. Djeeta clears her throat again, irritation lacing it when Nezha doesn’t budge, planting herself in front of the door and Nezha gauges how good of an idea it’d be to try to go head to head with the captain. </p>
<p>Not like he hasn’t but… </p>
<p>He decides he’s not in the mood today.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Yer still angry?” </p>
<p>“Not angry.” </p>
<p>Nezha strides through the streets of Valtz Duchy, inhaling the scent of fire and ash. It does little to calm his raging anger that he’s barely keeping contained — barely as in the others give him a wide berth while Satyr sticks closer, unconcerned. </p>
<p>“Yer angry.” Satyr pops some candy into her mouth, tosses a couple pieces at the children before skipping to catch up with him, barely flinching when he lets out another flare of anger. </p>
<p>“He’s been wearing that collar for <em> years </em> . With <em> someone </em> else’s name on it to boot.” Nezha let’s his frustration slip. Just a bit. </p>
<p>“He never said he wasn’t yours. Or completely yours. He gives an inch at times but you try to take the whole mile when he does, ya get what I’m saying?” Nezha’s anger ticks up another notch. “He needs his space. And you,” Satyr casts him a scolding look, “need to respect it. I get ya love him but you can’t get yer way with him every time. That’s not how a relationship works.” </p>
<p>“Oh so you’re now an expert on relationships,” Nezha snaps. A door bursts into flames and Satyr waves her hand, pulling them out before they do too much damage. “We’re <em> fine </em>.” </p>
<p>Satyr stays in step with him as he enters the one forge that’ll do business with him. </p>
<p>“Yer too controlling and demanding sometimes, and Baal’s a softie. Grumpy but soft. Be nicer to him. Treat him like an equal and not something you can bend as ya please. You can’t keep taking, Nezha.” Satyr flies out of range as Nezha swings Nalavakura at her. “And for the record, I don’t <em> need </em> to be an expert, it’s common sense!” She hovers in the air, grinning at him before flying higher. “Also add to the record, I have <em> two </em> girlfriends.” </p>
<p>Nezha snarls. By the Astrals how he despised other primals sometimes. Not that what Satyr said didn’t make sense, it did, really. He would think about it. Maybe. </p>
<p>“Sir?” the blacksmith asks tentatively when Nezha remains unmoving. Nezha turns slowly, holding out the bell, doing his best not to set something else on fire lest he scare off the last blacksmith who even dared help him. He could only hope humans could fix something like this. </p>
<hr/>
<p>“Eh? We’re not goin’ back to the Grandcypher?” Satyr seemingly waffles back and forth between wanting to break Nezha’s hand or let him tug her along in the direction away from the Grandcypher.</p>
<p>“Not yet.”</p>
<p>“If ya need time to cool down I understand, but <em> I </em>wanna go back.” </p>
<p>“I need your help.”</p>
<p>Satyr pauses. Nezha heaves out a sigh, flies faster while she does nothing, creating drag so he has to work harder. He bites his tongue and doesn’t complain though.</p>
<p>“Nothing bad.” It doesn’t seem to reassure her. </p>
<p>“To quote Baally: ‘Yer definition of nothin’ bad is not the same as mine.’” </p>
<p>“I promise?” Nezha tries, knowing how silly it already sounds. No one with a brain cell would believe in his promises of something not being dangerous when it came to him.</p>
<p>Satyr casts another look at him. </p>
<p>“Quotin’ Baally again: ‘Yer promises are dangerous.’” She doesn’t reach out to break his grip on her wrist though, letting him continue to tug her towards his destination. “Whatcha need though, Nezha?”</p>
<p>“... I’m going to get him a new collar.” </p>
<p>Satyr’s hand cracks against his and he lets go, both of them hovering in midair in what feels like a standoff. </p>
<p>“Are ya deaf? Have ya not heard a single word I’ve been sayin’?” </p>
<p>Satyr sounds as angry as she’s going to get; her temper never flares but the way she’s looking at Nezha makes him feel like he’s being sized up on whether he’d make a nice, roasted primal. And in his opinion, being more muscle than fat, he really wouldn’t but then again there aren’t very many picky eaters among primals.</p>
<p>“I’m not, I’m not going to <em> make </em>him wear it.” Nezha tries to explain before she blasts him with fire or worse — flies off and leaves him stuck. “I just…” He trails off, never one to put his feelings or thoughts eloquently into words. </p>
<p>“Fine.” Satyr grabs his wrist and wrenches off into a neck breaking speed. “I’ll help ya but I swear if ya even remotely <em> try </em> to force him to wear it then—”</p>
<p>“You’ll beat the shit out of me?” Nezha finishes sweetly, eyeing the island that’s coming into view. “How very nice of you.”</p>
<p>“Well… Not in those exact words.”</p>
<p>“Close enough?"</p>
<p>“Close enough,” Satyr sighs, before dropping him into the ocean of Auguste Isles.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When Nezha and Satyr arrive back at the Grancypher, Djeeta draws a line across her neck with her finger when she sees Nezha and he takes the hint. He leaves the box he’s obtained in front of Baal’s door and takes off without knocking. He knows Baal will smell the ashes anyways. </p>
<p>It takes a week before Baal comes and finds him. The bell isn’t around his neck. </p>
<p>It’s unsettling. Nezha misses the stupid chime.</p>
<p>Baal holds a plate of watermelon, kind of like they're a peace offering and Nezha stays where he is, Baal taking a seat across from him. “I have a list,” Baal murmurs when Nezha stares incredulously at the plate of watermelon, “of things you like.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? What else is on there?” Nezha asks tentatively, accepting the watermelon piece that’s shoved into his mouth. </p>
<p>“It’s not a long list. You’re simple.” When it’s clear Baal doesn’t intend to continue, Nezha props his chin up on a hand and stares expectantly, adding a little heat to his gaze and Baal crumbles easily, almost shying away. A sigh and then — “Blood. Fighting. Fire. Peaches if watermelon can’t be found.” Baal pauses, drumming his fingers on his thigh before he speaks again, a little less confident. “Me.” </p>
<p>Nezha nods slowly, trying to fight the smile that’s threatening to split his face. A list huh. </p>
<p>“But we’re not here to talk about that.”</p>
<p>Nezha snaps out of his thoughts.</p>
<p>Right.</p>
<p>He opens his mouth but Baal strikes first as he usually does when it comes to conversational things. “I may have overreacted—” Baal begins and if Satyr was here she would’ve smacked the primal core out of him.</p>
<p>Nezha quickly cuts him off. “I was invading your personal space, you didn’t. You’ve let me get away with that too many times.” Nezha admits he’s bad with boundaries and reading Baal’s comfort zone sometimes. Maybe a little more than sometimes. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>He’s talked with Ladiva some since then. And Satyr. Athena too. He’d lend Nalavakura to Gran before talking to Medusa about relationship advice but it’s a start.</p>
<p>An apology is progress. “I’m also sorry for trying to provoke you when you were injured,” he mumbles, a little less sorry for that because he still laments on not being able to see Baal fight like <em> that </em>. </p>
<p>“Are you really.” Baal is quick to catch on as usual, doubt dripping from his words.</p>
<p>“Maybe not completely. I was kind of itching to see how you’d fight.”</p>
<p>“You’re such a bastard,” Baal murmurs with his rough affection, fidgeting when Nezha fixes his gaze on him. “Why do you want to <em> fight </em> me so bad?”</p>
<p>“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”</p>
<p>“That is,” Baal scrunches his face, kicking him under the table, “not a compliment.”</p>
<p>Nezha blows him a kiss and Baal makes another face, shoving the watermelons towards him. They fall silent, Nezha crunching down on the watermelons, unable to take his eyes off Baal’s neck — it looks so <em> bare </em> without his collar.</p>
<p>Baal conjures Hannibal from thin air, combs his fingers with his fur before speaking again. “I like the collar you got me. It’s nice.” </p>
<p>Nezha swells with joy, spotting the matching collar he got for Hannibal already around the cat’s neck.</p>
<p>“If it weren’t for the fact you had your name engraved on it, I’d be wearing it right now.”</p>
<p>Nezha deflates. He’d hope Baal would miss that but evidently not.</p>
<p>“I’ll consider it though.” </p>
<p>Nezha leans forward, almost knocking over the plate of watermelons but Baal covers his mouth before Nezha can kiss him, pushing Nezha back.</p>
<p>“You are half forgiven,” Baal says, pushing back as hard as he can as Nezha leans forward again, pushing against Baal’s strength. “Not completely but—” Nezha pulls back and circles the table before Baal can react, scooping him up and Hannibal leaps to the ground with a surprised yowl. “<em> Nezha! </em>”</p>
<p>“Forgiven?” Nezha prompts, pressing a kiss to Baal’s lips. “Go on.”</p>
<p>“I said not completely. <em> Half </em> forgiven.”</p>
<p>“So forgiven,” Nezha chirps, arms steady as he manipulates Baal so that the other primal is resting on his hands, pinning Baal against a wall. </p>
<p>Baal flicks his forehead and Nezha tries not to tip them both over when Hannibal wounds himself around his legs. “Don’t push your luck.”</p>
<p>“Right, right.” He leans in for another kiss, pushes a little more aggressively this time. “Although kissing you may be just as good as fighting you.” </p>
<p>“<em> May be just as good </em>?” Baal squawks indignantly, grabbing onto Nezha’s shoulders to steady himself, spine stiffening like a cat when Nezha smirks at him. </p>
<p>“Let me try again—” he cuts Baal’s protest off, bites at Baal’s neck a little rougher than he should; it seems that Baal not wearing his collar has actually worked to his advantage. He balances Baal precariously on one arm, “—it seems further experience is needed to determine that.”</p>
<p>“You’ve kissed me plenty before,” Baal gasps weakly, but not protesting, hand wounding into Nezha’s hair while neither pushing or pulling him. </p>
<p>Nezha hums before kissing Baal again, makes sure to draw it out until Baal is whining for air, face tinged pink before drawing away.</p>
<p>“Kissing you is most likely at least a little better than fighting but I would need further—” he begins before Baal tightens his legs around Nezha like a vice. While Baal’s strength is no joke, Nezha barely feels the pinch and beams brightly instead.</p>
<p>“Shut. Up."</p>
<p>“And kiss you?” Nezha doesn’t miss a beat.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Well I must say ya do have good taste,” Satyr drawls a couple of days later when Baal emerges from belowdecks, the chime of the bell once again gracing Nezha’s ears. “It looks good on him.”</p>
<p>“Stupid cat,” Medusa groans, burying her face in Athena’s lap, the fire primal absently combing through her hair. “And his chiming bell. He’s been flaunting his shiny new collar, you two are so <em> ugh </em>.” </p>
<p>“And to think she was fussing over him when he was bedridden,” Nezha muses, watching Medusa’s tail curl happily when Athena massages her scalp — he wonders what Baal’s would do if he had one. </p>
<p>“That’s Medussy for ya.”</p>
<p>He waits until Baal approaches him, elbowing his side to hand him a peach. </p>
<p>“Can I kiss you?” he asks, instead of his usual take and no asking, tossing it into the air before taking a bite out of it. </p>
<p>Baal tilts his head, the movement syncing with Hannibal’s and if Nezha was anyone else, the uncanniness might’ve given him the chills. “I was thinking that if you wanted to fight me so badly, now would be a good time. Waking season is upon us after all.” Baal’s eyes glitter with the sort of competitiveness Nezha sees once in a century maybe. “Or are you satisfied with just kissing me?”</p>
<p>So this is Baal’s inch. Nezha bares his teeth in the semblance of a smile, feels joy when Gran takes a look at him and takes off, most likely to look for Djeeta. </p>
<p>“While I’m certain kissing you is better, who would I be to pass up this opportunity?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>satyr has TWO wives and no one can convince me otherwise.</p>
<p>twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/spymursclause">spymursclause</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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